


Panic

by fio



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Blood, Car Accidents, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fio/pseuds/fio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mutt is a wreck, they're both cut up and bleeding, and it's possibly the worst (or maybe the perfect) time for a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Panic

"O-Oh my god, Mike, there's— there's blood  _everywhere_. Are you dying? Am I dying? Are _we_ dying?" Chuck is rambling, bloody hands trying to hold some of the hair out of his eyes to show off one of the cuts at his hairline, blood pouring from it to trail down his face and drip off his chin.

Mike's seen worse, he's _had_ worse, but this has his heart hammering and his legs shaking just trying to get the twisted parts of Mutt's busted door out of the way so he can get Chuck out of the car. His hands are getting cut up on the wrecked metal and broken glass, but he doesn't care, doesn't notice his own blood adding to the mess already covering the interior, because all he can see is Chuck's where it's stained bright red on his skin and dark purple where it's soaking into his shirt.

"Nobody's dying," Mike says, like it's an order, and Chuck is still muttering but Mike isn't listening.

Chuck is unusually serene, sitting still where he's still buckled into the seat. It makes Mike nervous, because Chuck is _never_ serene, especially when he's in pain or afraid, but he isn't screaming or flailing or doing much of anything but staring off through the spiderweb cracks in the windshield and quietly listing off various things he's glad he never got to do before he died (it's a weird list, but it's _Chuck_ and Mike isn't surprised). Mike finally gives up on wrenching the door open with his hands and pulls out his chainsaws to cut the rest of it open, whispering a quiet apology to Mutt after the door falls off into the dirt.

He reaches in, wrapping his arms around Chuck's chest and pulling slowly, stopping when Chuck shrieks in pain.

"What? What's wrong?" Mike asks, feeling panicked, and Chuck points at the dashboard where it's caved in and the glove compartment is trapping Chuck's leg. He let's Chuck go to rip Mutt apart from the inside out before grabbing him again and sliding him out of the wreckage. He tries to get Chuck to stand, but his leg is clearly broken in at least two places and the rest of him is too shaky to hobble even on one foot, so Mike leans him against the side of Mutt so he can start checking him over.

"Oh, shit, Mikey, I'm so sorry," Chuck says suddenly, surprising Mike when he's halfway through tearing Chuck's shirt to check for cuts or gashes.

"For what?" Mike asks, hands hovering over bruises but finding no bones poking out of places they shouldn't.

"I made you tear up Mutt, man, I'm sorry, you shouldn't have—"

"Chuck, she was already busted, it's fine, just—"

"—yeah, but you had to rip her apart, you're gonna have to start from near scratch, and it's gonna take you  _forever_ and—"

"Chuck, shut  _up!_ " Mike shouts, and Chuck shrinks back against Mutt's side, hunching over and bowing his head like he's sorry for so many things, and it's so fucking  _stupid_ so Mike grabs him by the face and doesn't think about how bloody his hands are because he's still too panicked to even realize he's cut up and hurt. "Chuck, listen to me, _I don't care_! We can get replacement parts, we can build her better. But I can't do that without you, okay? I can't do shit if I don't have you."

Even through his blood-soaked bangs, Mike can see Chuck's eyes blown wide, and he knows they're both still bleeding and covered in broken glass and Chuck is suffering at least three fractures and probably more where there are bruises blooming over his ribs and Mike's running on too much adrenaline and Chuck has apparently reached some death-accepting zen, but it doesn't matter right then. He pulls where his hands are still holding onto Chuck's face, smearing blood over his freckles and digging his filthy fingernails into his skin, and Chuck follows without hesitation, meeting Mike's mouth with his own.

The kiss tastes like copper, Mike's tongue pushing between Chuck's teeth and licking into him, swallowing Chuck's moans as he slides a leg between Chuck's thighs. Mike feels Chuck bleeding on him where his nose is pressed against his skin, and it's enough to make him want to pull away and get back to checking for more cuts and broken bones, but Chuck has grabbed him back by now, bloody fingers buried in Mike's jacket to hold him in place.

They stay there, pressed up against the side of the ruined remains of their car, broken, bloodied, and out of their minds, as they kiss and hold on to each other until the sound of loud engines and the voices of worried Burners finally break them apart.


End file.
